


Take My Heart (because I'm all yours)

by maybe_we_were



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, F/M, Movie Night, One Shot, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybe_we_were/pseuds/maybe_we_were
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve takes charge and Natasha can't help herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Heart (because I'm all yours)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, so I hope you like it! Sorry if Natasha is OOC, I am still trying to find her voice. Of course, all belongs to Stan Lee/Marvel.

For once, it was quiet in Stark Tower.

On any given night, Thor would make an appearance, bringing dark clouds, rain, thunder, and lightning in his wake.  When Tony was around (which happened to be a good chunk of the time), he was either tinkering on his suits with Bruce or talking Pepper’s ear off about the possibility of a new toy for his lab.  Clint wasn’t around much to begin with, and even when he was, he was so stealthy that he didn’t make much noise.  But no, the reason it was quiet was because Natasha was the only one there.

She lays on the couch watching Flashdance, which she’s seen only once before, but clearly likes.  She’s never really told anyone, but dancing, especially ballet, is a passion of hers.  The soft material of her yoga pants rubs the couch as she stretches out, her green V-neck t-shirt riding up a bit.  She wiggles her toes against the plush material of the couch, enjoying the feel. 

Just as she is getting into a good part of the movie, she hears the elevator ding open.  Head whipping around, she sees the top of someone’s head over the edge of the couch.  The neatly styled short blonde hair is a giveaway. 

“Steve,” she says, as a greeting. 

“Nat,” he nods.

She takes note of his casual clothing as he walks around the side of the couch nearest to her head.  His traditional bomber jacket and khakis have been replaced by a pair of well fitted jeans and a white t-shirt.  The white shirt accentuates his broad shoulders and the sleeves are tight around his large biceps.  She has to admit, she is definitely enjoying the view. 

She’s also a bit surprised, since as far as she knew, he was supposed to be out with Sam for the evening.  Not that it isn’t a _pleasant_ surprise.  His eyes take a quick scan of her laying on the couch, lingering a bit on both her face and her stretched-out legs.  His stride doesn’t stop and as he nears the end of the couch, she watches as he lifts up her feet and sits down in the spot where they previously rested.  The small gesture says a lot about their friendship.  It feels…natural for him to be touching her.  Even more so, he was comfortable enough to do so.  Although they have a strong friendship, sometimes it feels like _more_. 

She only has a second to process his actions before her feet are placed in his lap, his large hands resting lightly near her ankles.  The warmth of his hands seeps through the thin cotton of her pants. That’s one thing she really likes about him; he’s always warm.  She’s noticed because throughout the course of each day, he touches her at least once. 

“What are you watching?”  His eyes flick over to hers. 

“Flashdance,” she replies, her head tilting in his direction.  “The main character, Alex, wants to be a ballet dancer.  She is a welder and an exotic dancer, but she wants to get into ballet school.” 

The small smile on her lips disappears as her attention goes back to the TV screen.  Steve sits with her in companionable silence for a while.  They are getting to the “Maniac” scene when Natasha feels Steve’s hands shift. 

“You know, she reminds me of you.  Determination. Grace. Power. Beauty.” 

All of this is said rather softly, almost as if she wasn’t supposed to hear it.  But, she did. 

And honestly, it makes her feel like he sees her in a way she never allows herself to. 

Her eyes glance over is his direction, but now Steve is busying himself watching the screen.  She looks down as, slowly, his hands move over her ankles.  Deft fingers circle her ankle, and she feels his touch go through her like a zap of electricity.  She knows that he knows she’s watching him, but he says nothing as his fingers continue their path.  She wishes, _really wishes_ , he would acknowledge her, just to see the look in his eyes.  

Then again, maybe it’s for the better that he doesn’t, since she’s not sure what he’d see reflected in hers.

But…she’s never been one for following the rules, either. 

“Steve,” she says quietly, waiting for a reply.

“Hmm?”  His gaze turns towards hers. 

What she wants to say next will be tough.  Sharing something like her past makes her vulnerable, but this is Steve, and he would never judge her or use it against her.  Still, doesn’t sharing things like that make anyone nervous?

“My time in the Red Room…well, it’s not something I talk about much.  My past is haunted with memories I’m not sure are real or fake.   But I do know that I was taught how to dance, similar to how Alex does,” her head motioning towards the screen. 

“I loved it.  I still do, actually. Once in a while, I slip on my ballet shoes and practice in the gym downstairs.  For some reason…it’s still close to my heart.” 

There’s _no_ mistake now, his eyes are completely focused on hers, as if he can see right through her.  They do say that eyes are the windows to your soul, so maybe…

She watches as his mouth opens, waiting for a response, but all she hears is silence. 

At least, until he recovers. 

“I’d like to see you dance, sometime,” she can hear the hesitation in his voice, “if you’d let me.”

 _Nothing_ could have prepared her for that response.  His arms reach towards her waist and, in one smooth movement, he pulls her closer.  She knew, _knew_ , that he was _capable_ and _smart_ and _kind_ and _good_ , but she never would have guessed he would take charge like he is right now.  She shouldn’t have been surprised though, because he’s a military man, so it makes sense that he is good with making plans and taking action.

The majority of her body is in his lap, his arms still around her so that her head is only a few inches from his own.  His hands are absently rubbing the material on her legs, which makes her nervously lick her lips. 

Not that she’s nervous, _per se_ , but they’ve never been _this_ close. 

Sure, there have been a few times he’s held her close, protecting her with his shield from flying debris, explosions, or gunfire.  Between aliens and gods and warfare, they had come to have each other’s back.  In the heat of the moment as a means for survival is one thing, but this is _different_.  She can tell by the way his pupils darken that he feels it, too.  It’s a slow burn, something that’s been in the making since she muttered, _“I could use a boost, though.”_  

She’s close enough now that she can smell a hint of his cologne.  It’s woodsy and masculine and makes her want to move in closer or, at the very least, touch him. 

Apparently her hands have a mind of their own, because they are now placed on top of Steve’s, which are resting on top of her thighs. 

She blinks and stares. 

Steve is, patiently, waiting for some indication that she heard what he said.  She recovers quickly with a small nod. 

“How about — 

She’s cut off by Steve’s lips molding to hers.  They’re soft, softer than she would have imagined, but she only gets a brief taste before Steve pulls back.  His face is only an inch or two from hers, and his eyes flick down to where her hands have moved to his chest, before looking at her eyes, face, lips. 

“I would say I’m sorry,” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “but that’s not how I honestly feel and I don’t lie.  I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now.” 

She doesn’t have an answer for his confession other than, “Come here,” while pulling at the front of his shirt. 

His uncertain eyes widen before he fully understands what she means and lowers his head to a better angle.  Their lips meet again, more hesitant than the first time.  Steve kisses her slowly, thoroughly, and the way he’s making her feel can’t really be described.  She’s never felt this way, and it’s not just because she’s being kissed by a good looking man, which he definitely is, but because it’s _him_. 

His tongue flicks over her lower lip and she opens her mouth, deepening the kiss.  She loses herself in it, and the low sound of pleasure that comes from Steve’s mouth brings a smile to her lips.  She straddles his hips and before she knows it, his hands are holding her thighs while he stands up from the couch.  He lifts her like she weighs nothing, which is a combination of many hours in the gym and the serum that is running through his veins. 

Securing her legs around his waist, she catches her breath while Steve presses soft kisses on her collarbone and neck.  He begins walking out of the living room and goes into the hallway.  It’s not too far to either of their living areas, so she knows the rapid beat of his heart is not from carrying her.  The funny thing is that her heart matches the beat of his perfectly.  And if _that_ didn’t say something, she doesn’t know what does. 

Once they reach his door, he presses her against it roughly, making a small moan escape from her mouth. 

“Steve,” she breathes, trying to ask for more, but not knowing exactly how to.  She grasps at the hair near the nape of his neck and tugs.  He must take it as an invitation, because he simply pulls her closer (though how that’s possible, she’s not sure) as one hand balances her and the other opens the door. 

He kicks the door closed behind them with the heel of his foot, and her ears barely register the click of the lock.  She knows the layout of his apartment from the amount of time they’ve spent together, so she knows when he heads towards the room to the right, that it’s his bedroom.  He gently leans her back until she’s laying on his bed with him on top of her.  She takes a minute to run her hands down his well-defined chest to his abs and back up again, settling with her hands on his biceps that are bracing him above her.  Looking down at her, he moves his fingers over her cheekbone and down along her bottom lip.  He does this as if he is amazed by what he has in his hands, as if he isn’t sure if it’s all real. 

Sensing this, Natasha gains enough breath to say, “I want you.  All of you.  I was afraid things would get complicated, but I just…can’t deny my feelings anymore.” 

“ _Thank_ _God_ ,” he hisses out, eagerly moving his lips back towards hers.  Before they touch, though, she places a finger on them.  His eyes, which were mostly closed a second ago, pop open in surprise. 

“First things first,” she pauses.

“Get us out of these clothes.” 

There’s a flirtatious gleam in his eyes as a teasing smile spreads over his lips. 

“Yes ma’am."


End file.
